Christmas Collection 2017
by Ombree
Summary: Entries for KingoftheSharingan's 31 Days of SasuSaku Christmas. Prompts are from the original SSMonth 2017 with a holiday/winter twist proposed by KingoftheSharingan. Rated M cause there's always that one entry that sucks the life out of T, and K. Dropped; Only made it to Day 12
1. Deep, Muted, Dim

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Title: Deep, Muted, Dim  
Prompt: First Love (Rinne Matsuri Edition)

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It's at the age of seven when she first learns what it means to have butterflies in one's stomach. It was the oddest of sensations. Curious viridian and even more curious mind know it's the small boy of obsidian hair and obsidian eyes that makes her heart move to a new beat. This body made her face heat, and it's then she wonders if the rumors of cooties are true—she had always believed it false.

Fingers that grip upon her mothers apron are what gather this woman of blonde's attention. The pout across her lips has her brows pinched and bottom lip puffed out. Her mother kneels to ruin her hand over her pale pink. She drops the question of if boys have cooties—her mother lets out the loudest of laughs. She asks if they don't then why does her heart move to this new rhythm, and why does her face heat with just standing beside him in class. The laugh she lets out this one is one wrapped in softness and a hum of her throat.

It's during the Rinne Matsuri that she decides that while she doesn't understand this feeling it's one that feels good. He's her secret gift giver this year, and his present is a single kunai that sits much too big within her small fingers. His left cheek is puffed and his obsidian are looking everywhere but her. It's not something she would of expected as a gift—it's not cute at all. It doesn't stop her from breaking into the widest of smiles though noticing how the wider she smiles the more his own face tints within a dusty red.

It's at the age of twelve when she's put on the same genin squad as this boy of obsidian hair, and eyes. She's older this time, and he's older as well. She had come to understand why is was that her mother had laughed the way she did when she asked about cooties—she had come to understand the hum of curiosity within her throat. She seeks to be acknowledge by this crush of hers—she says it's love, but where they sit now there's no true understanding of what it means to love. Ever girl has set their sights upon this boy who shows no interest—she's determined that she is the one that truly loves him.

He puts her in her place on more than one occasion. He's ruthless when he does it, but there's those moments when he's placing his trust in her. He's told her of his ambitions—they're dangerous, and he's come to protector her in the midst of missions—there's always a confident grin played across his mouth. They're teammates not lovers, but she's twelve and so it's impossible for her not to romanticize every action he makes.

It's during the Rinne Matsuri when she's deciding what to get for each member of her squad that she tries her best to think of what this boy would cherish—he had said himself he hated a lot of things and didn't particularly like anything. The ramen voucher is an easy gift for the knuckle head ninja, and a new shirt for the lazy leader of the squad is practical. She's looking among everything displayed, and nothing quite holds the same fit. Viridian capture site of one time—it's a set of three necklaces; one deep green, one muted red, and one dim yellow—but then she dismisses it thinking it to be too girly to present to a boy like him.

Days later she buys it—she's spent more than she should have for a gift she questions he'll even like. There's the small guilt in having spent more on him then she had her other two teammates, but this is the boy she swears she loves. The plan to give him one each year makes her reason the cost. It's almost fitting though—she had received such a boyish gift from him when they were young, and now here she was giving him possibly something too girly.

Curious viridian watch when he opens it at the bridge as they wait for the always late leader. His face is decorated in the smallest of interest as his eyes look within this box that holds the green necklace. Obsidian look to her and there's opening of his mouth. He closes his mouth as if he's trying to formulate the right words and then it's the knuckle head ninja who's voice begins to tease him over the girlish accessory. Pale cheeks burn bright in red as he hurries to stuff it within his bag refusing to look at them and demanding the blonde shut his mouth.

His reaction is enough to tell her that she's probably made a mistake—maybe she wouldn't give him the other two.

It's at the age of thirteen that he's left their sides. Her dreams from when she was twelve has changed—she doesn't wish for her marriage to this boy she's crushed on since the age of seven. She just wants him home. She dreams of team seven being whole again. This does not lessen her love for him—she loved him with all of her heart. She had promised to make him happy if he would stay with her—and he had still walked away from them all. First loves were the hardest. First loves burned the brightest. First loves would always be different than what came after them—she doesn't think she'll ever love someone in the way that she's learn to love him.

There's no joy to be had in the Rinne Matsuri this year. Deep within her closet sits his remaining two gifts—they hold an entirely new purpose now as she holds the photo of team seven within her room. Laying back upon her bed she can only allow her viridian to look out to the sky that dares to peak at her from the small opening of her curtains. The deep inhale she takes is one to settle her heart. It doesn't comfort her in the slightest as she feels the tear slide down her face and into her ear. Fingers trail up to wipe where it had traveled.

Those necklaces were deep green, muted red, and dim yellow—their new purpose would be to remind him of team seven. Kakashi would be the green, and Naruto would be the yellow. She would be the red, and the final one she'd give if he ever came back to their sides. He has Kakashi with him she reasons—and maybe one day down the road he would have Naruto, and herself to go along with him. The choked laugh she lets out as she squeezes the picture tighter against her chest comes.

There's hope that he's safe and that he's able to find some joy away from home as he heads within the darkness to accomplish his ambition.

It's at the age of fifteen when she's grown stronger and she's grown more determined. She won't place this burden of bring the boy she loves back upon the knuckle head ninja. They've tried to substitute this boy with another who looks as though he could be related—it's not possible with her first love being the last Uchiha.

This new addition is difficult to handle at first. She may have struck him within his face as he spoke poorly of her first love—she would tolerate none of it. It's after seeing this boy of obsidian as he stands taller and older within the two years they've been separated that she realizes she can no longer see this boy as a boy. He's aged, and he's a man. They're only fifteen but there's no doubt that if he's a man she too must stop seeing herself as a little girl. She's a woman now, and they are shinobi.

He's still creating those butterflies within her stomach, but they're not the pleasant ones she remembers at the age of seven. He's still able to make her face heat within a dusty red, but it's not due to nervousness standing beside him. There's a touch of pain, and a touch of longing as he stands so close and so far. He doesn't attempt to hurt her—he's hurting every one but her, and yet she's too blind to it within her wishes to make team seven whole again.

A deep cry within her room after their first reunion is what she needs to continue moving forward. They still haven't brought him back, but she cannot let this stop her. One day it will happen and one day he will be a part of team seven. Somewhere inside that man was the boy she had crushed upon at the age of seven, and somewhere inside that man was the boy she fell in love with at the age of twelve. Somewhere inside that man was her first love.

The Rinne Matsuri comes, and this year she pushes herself to take within the festivities. Those necklaces that symbolize team seven still linger within her closet and there's a bitterness that swells within her heart wondering if he may have possibly thrown out the first one from when they were twelve. She wonders if he has thrown out the one meant to remind him of their squad leader.

It's at the age of seventeen after they've survived the war and they've managed to defeat a god that those butterflies have come back. Her feelings have changed in ways unlike when she was seven, and when she was twelve. He's her first love, and he's still the one she loves with all of her heart. No other had found a way to make themselves at home within her heart as he has done. She does not wish to keep him all to herself. She does not wish to marry this man. She only wants him to be happy. She will learn to love someone else, and learn to love someone new when he's finally found happiness—there's the irony in knowing she could never love someone more than him.

She's taken to visiting him every day within the cell that holds him. The seal that sits upon his face keeps those obsidian eyes from her, and the straight jacket that binds him keeps him from being able to reach out to them. He's taken his punishment, and he's doing as he's told. He does not fight them, and he's accepted he was wrong—he and the knuckle head ninja had almost died for it. She had been so angry with both of them for it.

Fingers had dug deep within the closet and blown the dust from the box that held the necklace of dim yellow. The Rinne Matsuri is in full swing and it's finally now that the girl of twelve would be able to resume this gift plan as a woman of seventeen. Ibuki is diligent in checking what she's bringing to this prisoner. The small smile they exchange is not normal, and she's sure it's the Rinne Matsuri that's brought this small exchange. She's given her standard thirty minutes. They do not let her within the cell, and that's okay. She's perfectly fine with sitting against the bars that hold him. Back pressed against the cold metal she greets him as she always does. It's soft whispers within the prison. She's always soft when she sits within this place. It's as he's made his way to sit against her with only the bar between them that she knows he's heard her. He never speaks and he never response—and that's okay too.

Thirty minutes comes quick, and it's before she raises from the floor and removes her back from the bars that she slides the box within the opening beside him. He cannot open it, and he cannot see it, but Ibuki has promised that he will take care of it when she leaves. She drops the familiar season greetings that come with this holiday, and tells him that she hopes he'll like it. The deep inhale she takes this time does comfort her as she gets to her feet.

Her feet still when he dares to make his own whisper within the dark.

It's simple gratitude and the way he says her name that makes her cheeks flush in dusty red.

"Of course, Sasuke-kun."

It's at the age of eighteen when he's been released, and he has set out on his journey early within the spring. She had requested to travel with him and he had affectionately tapped her head widening those ever curious viridian. He does not write her—and that's okay. He wants to atone for his sins. She wants him to go forward confidently in his own way. She wants him to more forward and see the world through eyes no longer clouded by darkness.

As he travels forward she decides it's time to have a new goal—a new dream. Having watched what trauma had done to him, and Naruto she hopes no one ever has to watch their family, their friend, their teammate or their first love the way she had.

Fingers curl upon the door knob of her small apartment of one at the knock that's come from it. She's not expecting visitors but she can only assume it's the caused by the blonde in his excitement for Rinne Matsuri. They're deep within the holiday, and she's meant to get dinner with him the following day. The dusty red covers her cheeks after a few minutes of curious viridian, and even more curious mind take in that her first love is standing at her door—she didn't even know he was returning.

It's awkward at first when she invites him in, and he instantly pushes the box he had hidden in his hand underneath the long poncho. He looks worn and tired in the weathered poncho of tan. Viridian are captured immediately in seeing the deep green, and dim yellow necklace she had given him at twelve and seventeen upon his neck. The butterflies within her stomach are flying and sending her heart soaring just as high. He's kept them—he's wearing them.

Obsidian have yet to look her way and it's as he finally speaks and asks her if she's going to open the box he's pushed upon her that she lets out a small laugh. Fingers are slow as she lifts the cover of the box and it's the mint green that floods her viridian within the box. She's gentle as she pulls the clothing from the box it's a simple button up cardigan. Viridian dare to sneek a look at this boy who had brought such a cute gift to her. The seven year old in her cannot stop the smile that won't stop widening upon her face. The wider her smile the heaver his cheeks brighten in red and he sinks his head deeper within the high color of his shirt.

There's the softest thank you that falls from her as she presses this gift against her chest. They're not lovers their teammates but that doesn't lessen the joy this brings her. He's her first love—he's her only love. She's quick in running to her room she's excited to try the shirt on and grab him the final necklace that would be the reminder of her on his journey for atonement. She's not more than a few minutes and she's back to him still standing awkwardly within her entryway. His blush has cooled considerably, and it's as she stands before him with the box in hand, and fingers evening out her pale rose-colored stands that his obsidian have finally met her viridian.

She's opening the box slowly and holding it out to him. His fingers hesitate at first as he takes the necklace out from the padded box and his eyes come back to her in that moment. It's a shared glance that brings her stepping closer as she whispers within this short distance.

"You have one to remind you of each of us." she's hesitant as she helps bring it over his head and tucking it under the collar of his poncho, "Now we'll be with you always no matter how far you go."

He doesn't respond at first—and that's okay. Everything's okay because he's here and he's back with team seven. That's all she ever needs from this first love of hers. It's his fingers that come towards her with what she can only gauge as nervous boyish curiosity. It's his fingers within her hair and the heat of his face against her cheek as he whispers another thank you. Her own fingers curl within his poncho and there's that sting within her eyes as she tells herself not to cry at this action so tender from him.

At the age of seven he was the boy she had held a crush on. At the age of twelve she had been just a fangirl of his. At the age of thirteen she had moved on from crushes, and fangirling to loving him with all of her heart. At the age of fifteen she had loved him even after he sought to destroy their bonds as teammates. At the age of seventeen her loved had become unconditional with no strings attached. At the age of eighteen she continued to wish to bring him all the happiness she could.

First loves were the hardest. First loves burned the brightest. First loves would always be different than what came after them—she's proven her younger self right in believing there will never be anyone she loves so completely.


	2. Teammate

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Title: Teammate  
Prompt: Something More (Winter Edition)

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The sun is warm but not enough to shield them from winter chill and snow that sits upon the ground. She's his opposite in the cloak of cream with pale pink hair, and viridian eyes. He's always been one for deeper shades obsidian hair, and obsidian eyes. The clock of ebony upon his shoulders is deep within its shade not weathered or worn.

They're taking a scroll to Iwagakure's Tsuchikage. It's a simple task given by this old squad leader who now sits within the Hokage office. Who was he to tell him no especially when it was on the way? There had been some hesitance when he had asked this kunoichi to journey with him. She had traveled in an effort to stop the consistent rumors that dared to say he fallen back within the darkness, and allowed his eyes to once again be clouded. They had proclaimed he was planning to destroy Konohagakure and she had charged forward with her blonde best friend, and his once replacement to put an end to such rumors.

She had been taken, and he had moved well before the paper had fluttered upon the ground. That ungodly strength and that ungodly power behind her tiny hands had burst the building down before he could make his way to her. It had been enough though for him to decide it was time he took her with him—hesitant or not she would not be used as she walked beside him. She's capable of defending herself. He told himself as he worked towards this decision. She's able to handle anything that comes her way. He told himself as he worked through the pros and cons. It had just taken her standing at the gates to welcome him home to make him finally decide this was the best answer.

They come upon the gates of this allied village, and he doesn't have to utter a word as she moves forward explaining why they've come. There's the smallest shift of his head as he rests his eyes between these two. They know each others—this shinobi adores her. It's obvious within his eyes there's something more than adoration behind this look that's painted across his face.

A feeling deep within his stomach makes him feel as though he is not meant to witness this exchange. She's painted in surprise, and then there's the realization across her face. She knows him, and this shinobi knows her—it's not hard to believe. The war was only so long ago, and the villages had banned together. He can only assume she's met more than her fair share.

Did they share these same looks that held something more than adoration?

He clears his throat gaining their attention. Shifting his weight from one leg to another he's sure gives away how awkward he feels, "I'll deliver the scroll."

She's quick to lift her hand, "Ah, Sasuke-kun I'm coming."

"You look like you'd like to catch up." he's tilting his head to the shinobi he's yet to learn the name of, "I'll be fine."

He wonders if the feeling deep within his stomach is caused by the awkwardness or the realization that there was someone who looked upon his female teammate with something more. The village doesn't stop with his appearance. He wonders at what point he had managed to gain acceptance. They do not stop to gaze upon him as they once would. They would not assume he meant them harm.

The old man that resides over Iwagakure is out, but his cheeky granddaughter is there to take the scroll from him in her grandfather's absence. There's no missing the way her eyes fall upon him—she's digesting him, sizing him up, and taking him in.

"You've changed." she's crossing her hand's across her chest with the slightest curiosity within her tone, "You've softened up well."

He's not sure how to take what she's said. He's sure she's meaning it as a good thing, but then there's that feeling that's lingered within him since leaving his pink haired teammate. He wouldn't call it jealousy. He wouldn't call it envy. He wasn't sure what to call it. He just knew that it was something he shouldn't feel. Leaving her alone with someone who adored her should never be an issue. Could she really say he's changed with something unnameable residing within him?

"I don't think I have." he's honest with his response, and the look across her face shows she had not expected him to respond from the start.

She's shaking that head of obsidian hair with the most easy going smile across her face, "I think you've matured a lot. You're growing up. Sorry you had to come all the way here and he's not even here."

"It's fine it was on our way."

"Our?" this has her curious with her brows raising, "Is it a girl?"

It's the height of her voice that makes him suddenly uncomfortable with her gaze. He doesn't want to know what her response would be if he dared to admit his pink haired teammate is lingering at their gates.

She's shaking that head of obsidian hair with the most easy going smile across her face, "It is a girl. So you have grown up. It's not just with age—I think you've learned to accept people in your life." that playfulness still lingers but she's taken a softer approach than he would of expected of her, "Make sure you cherish them as much as they cherish you."

Obsidian shift from her and the swallow he takes is what finally grounds him enough to bring his eyes back to her. She's pressing forward with advice he hasn't asked for, "Take responsibility for people you hold close."

It's that cheeky grin that spreads across her face that tell him she's said what she felt was necessary. The nod of his head and a single look back come as he takes her advice that lingers within the air. He hasn't asked for it, but that did not mean that he could not take it.

The steps he takes bring him upon the quite conversation at the gates. They've sat down and were once adoring and happy smiles decorated these two's faces now sides the softest of smiles set within sad tones. There's the smallest curiosity of what has transpired between these two, and it's because of that that he steps before them. She's quick upon her feet in seeing him, but then she's turning her back to him those fingers of hers are laced behind her as her voice comes within the air.

"Morio-san." he's heard this tone from her before—it's that gentle and tender tone she always took with him, "Thank you, and I'm sorry."

He questions if he's heard what she's said. She thanking this shinobi, and she's apologizing. What had she done to make her apologize? Was she the cause of the heavy tone that sat between these two.

"Sakura-san, thank you for hearing me out once again." he's smiling earnestly as he's raising to meet her, "I knew I was right to believe that whoever you picked would be amazing." there's the flicker of his eyes to obsidian, and then his attention is back upon this woman of pale pink and viridian green.

He's beaming a smile at her as she's swaying her hands in front of her, "I'll find someone amazing to stand beside me too."

It doesn't take much effort to realize what had happened in his abscene. This man had indeed looked upon her with something more. This man, Morio, looked at her the way she had looked at him. Obsidian trail upon her form as she's giving her farewells and it's when her viridian land upon his face that there's now missing the way her eyes glow. She's giving him that look of something more just as she always has. That feeling that he could not describe has been lifted and in it's place there's the new beat his heart takes with such a look.

The only sound between them is the sound of snow crunching underneath their feet. The silence is calm. She only gives the smallest of hums at the most random times within their travels. He barely registers the shift of his obsidian upon her as she walks beside him—she's oblivious to it.

 _She was his teammate—but was she something more_?

There's a hum far different from the usual that comes from her before he watches her lips open, "Ah, Rinne Matsuri is coming soon." it's not her attempting to create conversation but more of an outspoken thought.

She's looking upon this horizon of snow and it's here that he knows he is definitely looking to her. He's watching every hair that moves with her movements, and he's seeing the way she shifts her weight upon her feet.

"Sasuke-kun."

He doesn't answer her but there's something about the shyness within her tone that makes his heart flutter for just a second.

"I like you." she's whispered it but there's nothing that keeps him from hearing it.

Lips curve within the smallest of smirks. There's a certain level of pride that's washed over him at hearing her admit what he had know so long ago, "I know."

She's a contrast to him and even more so now as she turns to him with dusty pink cheeks and the most innocent expression upon her face. She's pale pink, and viridian green. He's obsidian, and more of the same.

 _She's his teammate—but she's something more_.


	3. Reaction, Attraction

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Title: Reaction Attraction  
Prompt: Chemistry (Rinne Matsuri Edition)

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There's a chemistry between them. It's undeniable. She can know what to do on a mission with a single shared look. He doesn't need her to tell him what she's feeling it's written within the way she moves. There's the subtle queues that go off between them, and there's the looks they give to the other without even realizing it.

He's not sure when he realized they held this kind of attraction. He's not sure when he noticed they held this kind of reaction. She's always in tune with him, and he's managed to find himself always in tune with her.

She some how always knows when he'll return the village. She's always prepared, and always there at the gates. He some how knows when she's locked herself within her office. He's always prepared to be the one who drags her from the stacks of paperwork on her desk. She always seems to know when he's done at the training grounds. She somehow knew what he'd eat even with how much time they've spent apart. He always seems to know when she was running low on herbs within her office. He somehow knew what she needed and brought them when he returned. She's quick to save him from a night out with Naruto. He's quick to save her from tumbling within her home after a night out with the girls.

He's not sure when they had inevitable clicked in the way that they do. There's the faint memory of them as genin. She followed him easily, and she moved beside him just as effortlessly. He had followed her without thought, and he moved beside her just as efficiently. It's the most natural for him. He doesn't click like this with others. He had never clicked this way with Taka. They had grown to work together, but it had taken time, and effort—it had never taken such things to work with her.

Obsidian can find her, and Viridian can find him no matter where they go. He knows exactly what to do—and when to say things that will make her face dusty in a blush. She knows what small things she has to do—and what look she has to wear to make his heart beat quicker. It's entirely concious behavior—and then it's subconscious.

There's always the thought within his mind that she's the one he'll turn to when he needs something.  
There's always the thought within her mind that he's the one she'll turn to when she needs something.

Effortless—it's all so simple.  
This was the chemistry between them.

That's why when she's sipping upon her drink, and he's sipping on her own there's a shared look. That's why when she's removing herself from her seat with the smallest wobble on her feet that he's the one who slides out of his own. The blonde wants them to continue to drink at this bar, and yet she's had her fill. She always made sure to stop at two and a half drinks. He always makes sure he's finished his third by the time she's hit her limit. They're fine with buzzed, and not okay with drunk.

She's always the more talkative one giving way to light chatter as he escorts her home. He's always the one to listen intently and provide a response when he feels the need as she walks within the winter air warm from her buzz.

Those that linger within the night are filled to the bring over the holiday. The decorations everywhere you would dare to look, and it's only two more days until he would exchange the gift he had picked especially for her. She's twirling, and she's beaming as she leans forward towards him. There's a playful smile across those lips.

"Ah, Sasuke-kun, do you want some hot chocolate when we get to my place?" she's biting her lip in that way she always does.

"Hm," he's humming out his response as he speaks over the high collared shirt adorning his family's emblem.

She's chatty within her love for Rinne Matsuri. He's not against it, but he's not about the crowded spaces, and ridiculous sales. There's that shake of her legs as she's hoping up the steps to her apartment. He'll catch her should she almost fall—he always does. It's a reaction he does without thought.

The twist of her keys and she's welcoming him in. It's the slip of those heels from her feet as she's heading for the kitchen. He's picking them up and setting them where they need to be so she's not hunting in the morning—she gets frustrated easily. He takes a seat at the breakfast bar he's laid silent claim too. She's letting out a holiday hum as she's pulling cups from the cupboard.

It's a subconscious _reaction_ for him to eye the skin that dares to peek out from under her cardigan of mint green as she does her best to reach upon the highest shelf. It's a subconscious _attraction_ he's begun to come to terms with.

Attraction was such an odd thing—it's got the hint of a smirk at the corners of his lips as he dares to lower his gaze upon the black skirt she's got on underneath. He had tried to deny it. He had placed they were two friends who held mutual understanding. He had begun to let that thought slip through his fingers. He still wanted to believe this chemistry between them—this click between them was innocent—and yet here he is eyeing her none to friend-like.

She's sliding the drink within his hand and he's not one to stop to blow upon the liquid. She's already done that as she always does because she knows he'll scorch his tongue if she doesn't. Obsidian can pick off all the cute things she'll do completely unknowingly—one of her fingers will end up in her hair twirling it upon her finger, she'll lean further over the counter, she's puff her cheek as she talks about work at the hospital, and she'll bite that lip as she thinks of what she'll say next.

There's a moment where he's tuned her out, but every move she makes it easy for him to know when to respond. That finger is twirled within her hair and there's a short and soft chuckle that falls from him. She's puffing her cheek completely as she continues to ramble over work at the hospital. Bringing the cup to his lips he catches her voice die within her throat. He's not sure what's caused it and he dares to open his eye as he swallows down the liquid—there she is leaned over further on the counter, and as he takes another swallow she's biting her lip. Fingers bring the cup upon the counter. They're not speaking there's just the glow of viridian upon his endless obsidian. They've shared many looks, and this is another one to add to the forever growing list.

He's not sure why there's a part of him that wishes to deny this attraction he feels for her. Obsidian dare to flicker upon that exposed neck and collar bone her mint green cardigan gives away. He's not sure how he missed it's low cut upon her—and that's enough of that for one day. Obsidian are quick to bring themselves back to her viridian, and it's literal seconds later that she's pushing herself forward over the breakfast bar towards him.

It's her lips against his and it's an automatic reaction. His fingers are quick to bury themselves within her hair, and he's just as fast at pushing himself out of the chair letting it slide back from him. He's tilting her head and she's following his lead even after she's the one who initiated this. The slip of tongue only seeks to make him press his mouth to her own harder. Oxygen is what makes him pull himself from her, and there she goes moving as he moves.

Her chest moves quickly as she seeks to regain the air she's lost. Those cheeks of hers are dusty within a blush, and her hand that hides within the long sleeves of her mint green cardigan has pressed itself against her mouth. He's pulling his high collar even higher if possible as he seeks to look anywhere but her. There's heat across his face as he seeks to regain his proper air flow as well. There's silence between them as the come down from the reactionary high they've just participated in.

Her voice is far to cute for a woman who could kill as she dares to utter from behind her hand, "Ah, so about the Rinne Matsuri. . ."

Obsidian flicker to her own, and it's shut her voice within her throat. There's no denying how he blush spreads to his ears tinting them red as they both seek to hide from the other. Viridian seek to be shielded by her hand now raising to remove his chance to see within the windows of her being. He wants to see them though. He wants to see what's hiding within those viridian. He wants to know what had pushed her to press her mouth to his, and that's why he's coming around this breakfast bar to meet her where she's pressed herself against the counter.

There's a chemistry between them. It's undeniable.  
It's all reaction. It's all attraction.

That's why when he leans forward she's coming closer. That's why as his fingers make their way into her pale pink strands she's leaning her head within his hand. That's why she slides her hand away from her mouth to take his free set of fingers within her own. They've officially crossed the line that separates friends from lovers. There's no denying why he reacts to her and she reacts to him. There's no denying the attraction she's always held for him, and the attraction he can no longer deny her.

It's effortless—it's simple chemistry really.


	4. Decorated with Tears

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Title: Decorated with Tears  
Prompt: Lean on Me (Rinne Matsuri Edition)

* * *

It hadn't taken much to realize something was going on. It doesn't take long for him to catch onto her change in mood. It doesn't take much for him to guess it has something to do with the hospital. This is the time of year she lives for. She's the one that likes to decorate the house in festive colors. She's the one that likes to drink hot chocolate while she watches holiday movies. She's the one that pushes to for him to give her a list of things to get him. She's the one that demands they get seasonal foods in celebration. She's the one that helps plan the party they attend every year.

It hadn't taken her blonde best friend standing at his door to inform him that she thinks the woman of pale pink is letting her work get to her. She's not dancing within the cheer of the time of year, and she's not radiating within the joy of the season.

It hadn't taken his blonde best friend's wife to point out she had yet to begin planning the party this year. She's not filling their home with all those decorations, and asking him what he'd like.

No all it had taken was just days before the Rinne Matsuri her coming home with firm pressed lips, and the frustration locked within her eyes. There's always the hesitance to pry within her work. She's good at what she does, and that's why he wasn't surprised when she put together the children's clinic. She's an exceptional medic praised no matter where his mission's take him. This woman is not as she normally is. There's a frustration that comes with this. He's not sure when she will come to lean on him.

He's not sure when she will open up to what had happened.

There's no stopping his eyes following her as she whispers her return home. She's not coming to run those fingers within his hair or press her lips to the crown of his head. She's headed straight for their bedroom—he waits just a moment. A minute passes, and then another before he's sliding his mission scroll upon the table. He'll read it later. Whatever has happened in these following days needs addressed. He could no longer wait for her to come to him. Fingers reach for the door knob and then there's his hesitation. Would she become angry at him if he asked?

The twist of the door knob comes after pushing his hesitation aside. She's changing and removing her shirt from her head, "Sasuke-kun, what's wrong?"

It doesn't sit right with him that she's asking him what's wrong, "Are you okay?"

The pause is noted and one he'll remember, "Just a rough day at work. I'll get dinner started in a minute." that smile across her face is cheap in quality—he's surprised she'd even attempt that with him.

He'll back off though. She didn't want to talk about it. She had shot down his attempts immediately leaving no room for him to push. The last thing he wanted to do was force her to come to him. There's a deep inhale he takes to keep himself from letting his frustration get the best of him. He can only hope there's a point in their time together she'll think it's okay to lean on him when she needs it.

He's not sure when she'll open up about what's troubling him.

It's a few more days and still she hasn't decorated their home, still she hasn't asked him that frustrating question. He's not sure why it bothers him the way it does. Maybe it's because this was what he had come to expect of her. Maybe he had learned to associate the holiday with her. It did not matter how decorated the village became when his home did not follow it. Those few more days have not washed away whatever has left her so exhausted. It's as she's cooking dinner not giving way to her idle chatter she was prone to do that he leans against the against the wall drinking her in. He can see those gears turning within her mind, and he can see the glassing over of her eyes. The flare of her nose is unmissable as she silently attempts to calm herself. The grip of the spoon is far too much but he won't dare say anything. It's another deep inhale to maintain his frustration at seeing her so defeated. He doesn't know how to let her know it's okay to come to him. He doesn't know how to show her it's okay to lean on him.

It's not until after she's left early within the morning for her shift that he's done doing nothing. He's dragging the boxes out of the storage closet and he's pulling out the festive trinkets. She does this every year and this year he would take it off her shoulders. He doesn't even know where he's to start with the boxes he's placed within the living room. It's one box at a time, and he'll figure it out as he goes from here. He's always watching the clock and watching to make sure he has this done before she walks through the door. He doesn't understand why she put so much effort into something like this—but it was something that brought her joy.

He's barely managed to finish stuffing the empty boxes within the closet when she's walking through the door—she early and that's keeping him from going to get the seasonal dango she loves. He's cautious as he comes upon her standing within the entryway overtaken with the decorations he's hung. Those viridian are wide, and that pout of hers is parted. Then those brows of hers lift up and her bottom lip shakes. Viridian glass over and she's dropping her bag. She's curling within herself and those hands that could crush the floor from underneath them both press against her face.

He had expected a reaction of some kind, but not one like this. He had not expected her to start crying. Obsidian can only stare at her as his own mouth parts—he doesn't know what he's done wrong, and it has him panicking. Did he offend her by putting them up? Did he put them up wrong? Had he misunderstood? He's regretting having thought this would be something she wanted. He's quick to grab her hands pressed against her face as she continues to wail, and it's at his touch that she lets out another loud cry. He's not sure what he's supposed to do—how was he supposed to comfort her.

He's kneeling down in hopes of finding those viridian that lay hidden behind her hands. He doesn't know why him doing this has her in tears, and he doesn't know why this has upset her so much, but he'll do whatever it takes to get her to stop crying within their entry way. He's letting out the softest of noises in hopes that it will coax her tears to stop. His fingers curl upon her other hand and he's pulling them from her face.

"Sakura." he's scared to speak above a whisper in fear that she'll run from him.

There's no missing the way those tears still light upon viridian, and those lips of hers shake. Her voice is but a croak as she dares to speak, "I'm sorry—I just. I didn't mean to make you do this—I was so caught up—" she's squeezed her eyes shut and the drops that fall upon him make him pull her too him.

"What's wrong?" he's whispering within her hair as he presses her head within his shoulder, "It's okay to lean on me— _please, Sakura_."

She's choked sobs, and shuddered breaths as she tells him about the loss of the ANBU squad she couldn't save. She's heavyhearted in her pain in not being able to restart a child's heart, and she's curling her fingers within his shirt with bruising force at having pushed all of this on to him because she couldn't let these things go.

She knows that these things happen, and she knows that she cannot save everyone. She knows this and she's been through this before—and yet she wants to save them all. She wants to save them from their injuries, and she wants to be able to keep them from dying on her table.

He doesn't speak at first. He just continues to give forth soothing circles within her hair as she steadies her breathing. He cannot bring them back for her—she was the best medic he knew. This woman needs his words though to ease her heavy heart, "You've done your best." he's soft as she pulls from him with her pale rose-colored strands sticking to the sides of her face.

"I'm sorry this got pushed onto you."

"None of this was pushed onto me." he's not sure if she's referring to the decorations or her work, but even so the answer doesn't change.

"I know how much you're not fond of all this stuff." she lets out a the smallest hiccup within her response as she presses her hands upon her lap.

"I'm not fond of you in tears." his fingers brush the strands that stick to her face away as he lets out the smallest of smiles, "Get cleaned up. We'll go get the dango you like so much."

There's that absolute wonder within her eyes as he mentions the seasonal dango just waiting to be bought. This woman needed to pour her heart out for just a moment—she needed to release those feelings out. He's not sure when he had made her think that she could not depend on him. He doesn't not know what he's done to make her think she had to tuck away her problems.

It's not until he's got her walking beside him with the dango in hand that the smile that should always be placed upon her lips has returned to it's rightful place. There's that cheer in her step, and that joy that radiates off her. It doesn't lessen her heavy heart at having lost so many within the recent days, but she's finally no longer weight down by them.

It's has his fingers come within her hair as they're making their way down the road that he dares to ask her why she had not opened up to him sooner. She's got the saddest of smiles that comes over her face, and then she's turning her head to look at him, "I promised you I would make every day happy right?"

There's a shake of his head at her thinking like this, "It doesn't make me happy when you cannot come to me."

There's the sharp breath she intakes as if she hadn't considered such a thing. There's the hum of consideration that follows it, and then there's finally a response as she nods her head, "I'll do better."

It's that smile of reassurance across her lips that tells him she'll do as she says. It only lingers for a moment before she's chatty away asking him what he would like this year. There's a snort that falls from him at how much he had actually missed her asking him about such things within this time of year. He never once would have considered that he would miss such a thing.


	5. Soiled Like The Snow

x.x.x.x

Title: Soiled Like The Snow  
Prompt: Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Winter Edition)

* * *

She has no clue how this happened.

One moment she's mumbling about the snow that falls from the sky so puffy and white, and the next moment she's rolling and injured within the snow staining it red. The heart that beats within her head as she sees the world spin is to remind her she's breathing even with deep tear of her skin. Finger seek to feel her side as the liquid so warm, and red continues to soil what she found so pretty.

She's not sure if she had woken up or never even had a moment of unconsciousness. She's not sure how long she's laid within the snow staring up at the sky that continues to allow these white magical balls of snow to fall from it so wonderfully. She's sure she's felt the earth shake a time or two. She's sure she's heard someone utter a jutsu or two, but she cannot focus on anything but the snow.

Her mind is numb, and she feels outside of her shell.  
She's falling deeper within unconsciousness as her lids slowly raise and fall.  
There's the smallest of wonder on if the snow is what's pulling her deeper within the darkness.

There's a jolt of eyes as she forces herself to focus and to not allow herself to become so accepting. She feels numb and the world may be spinning—but she's bleeding out. There's the glow of her hand as she presses it upon her side. She cannot remember who she had been talking with as she walked, but she's sure it was someone. She's sure it's someone important.

She's biting her tongue as the harsh breath she breaths creates puffs within the air that disappear far to soon. It hurts—this is painful. Whatever, or whoever has hurt her has done their best to shove her to the side. There's the deep breath she takes as she mends her flesh further determined to do what must be done. It doesn't lessen how much it hurts, and it doesn't lessen the thud of her heart against her chest as she curls upon her side pressing her face within the snow. It's cool compared to the warm blood she's spilled and it's what she hopes will make her world finally come to a stand still.

Her mind is numb—her body feels number.

She feels like an outsider to her own body, and yet even as the world continues it's slow turn she's pushing herself up from the wet snow she had tried to take in. Even has it floats down to her head she doesn't allow it to stop her. Her feet are harsh in the snow as she kicks off from it—there's two and it only takes one look of the red that glow in her direction to remind her where she is and what she had been doing.

She had been talking to him—she had been talking to Sasuke-kun.  
They were traveling together as he sought atonement for his sins.

The shinobi that had dared to attack them has him moving, and has him attacking back. The sword within his hand chirps with the sounds of birds. She's rushing forward still not afraid of that sound as she once had been—they've moved passed that and she's moved passed the nightmares that came with that.

He had been in a darker place, and she had been desperate to save him from herself.

There's no missing how this shinobi has managed to escape the chidori intended, and there's no missing how this shinobi takes Sasuke to the ground. Each sound of him being smashed deeper within the ground is enough to pump her blood through her veins allowing her to find feeling within it once again. There's a rawness to the way this person fights—she too could fight like that, and it's with that thought that she pulls her leg back intending to hit just upon his head.

He's gone and she's hitting air. There's no missing the bruise upon his temple, and the odd angle his nose sits at as blood falls from his nose. He's coughing as he turns within himself trying to steady his breathing, and she's reaching to assist with his injuries. She's not expecting the hand that's grabbed her by the head and tossed her so carelessly against a near by tree that makes her back shoot with pain.

Her world spins more rabidly, and nausea fills her stomach. It begging for release at the base of her throat, and it's at the anger filled scream that hits her ears that she twists her head to allow it to fall against the snow. She needs to get up, and she needs to keep moving.

How much blood had she spilled well before now?  
How much sweat had she given well before now?  
How many tears had she shed well before now?

Her legs quake as she seeks to pull herself up using the trunk she had been thrown into as support. There's the flash of bright orange, and vibrant red that catches her attention within this world spinning so round. She's pushing herself off and moving forward as both men get further from her. Fingers run upon the back of her head feeling the liquid red she had yet to notice, and it's as she takes each step and increasing speed as she goes that she heals this wound she had neglected to feel. Her worlds starting to fall back into place, and starting to finally sit correctly within her view.

She's chasing after and it's only by gods grace that she's managed to dodge the kusanagi that flies passed her. Her hands are grabbing the explosive tags that hang upon her kunai. She's throwing and she's just a hair or two off her aim. She's managed to stop the bleeding from her head, and she's stopped the rapid spinning but it's going to take more time still for the world to settle correctly within her eyes.

She's quick to pull out the metal infused wire and even with shaky hands she's wrapping it around the kunai she has left. It's dangerous to keep her eyes off their enemy but she knows he'll want his sword.

The flick of her wrist comes that allows her to throw it far enough to wrap around the hilt. A yank of hand and the sound his Amaterasu fills the air. She's quick to spin and quick to turn with his sword finally within her hand. She's whipping her head to fast but it won't stop her from getting to him. He's on top of their enemy and his breathing is labored. Fingers immediately drop the sword, and go to his face to start her work.

He's covered within his sweat and blood. There's the glass over his eyes that dare to glow within the fall of the snow. Shaky hands come to rest upon her arms. She's pressing her thumbs against his nose prepared to align it back into place, and there's a squeeze of his hand that singles for her to do it. The painful sound that escapes him and the whip of his head comes. Those worn breaths continue to fill the snow with its white and she's uttering every apology she can.

Those fingers that press upon her arms are firmer and tighter as he brings her to him. He's uttering the smallest of pained whispers. It's here and now that she knows it's not the pain that had caused those eyes to glass over.

He's chanting it with succession, and panic laced desperation, "You're okay. You're okay. You're okay—"

He's not stopping as he pulls her tighter to him as if afraid to let her go. This force he's using hurts but it doesn't stop her hands from finding their place upon his back. She's answering every one of his chants with the promise she's fine. She's roughened, bruised, and bleed upon the snow but she's fine. She's all the things she needs to be here in this moment.

He had been panicking when she had been thrown and he had been desperate to eliminate the threat to find his way back to her. She's pressing him just as tight as he is to her and she's continuing to give her own chants back.

She's not sure how long it's taken for him to ease himself of this fear that had washed over him. She's not sure how long they whispered, and chanted back and forth amongst each other. All she knows is that there's the painful quake of her heart when she sees him so exhausted within his blood, sweat, and tears. She's as gentle as she can be as she heals his wounds, and she's so thankful she hadn't allowed herself to fall within the darkness. She hasn't bled out and turned his fear into a reality.

She pulls the glove from one set of fingers to let them run within his hair sticky with blood, and sweat that the snow continues to float down upon. She's brushing it off softly and reassuringly. She tries to give the most genuine of smiles as she sets to shove her fingers deep within her glove.

His fingers are hesitant as they trace the wound that she had healed as she lay within the slow. There's almost a ticklish sensation that comes as his fingers trail it, "Sakura."

"I'm okay, Sasuke-kun."

There's a moment of hesitation from him, and then he's finally relenting. He's kneeling down to grab a hold of the sword and slide it within it's sheath before grabbing a hold of her hand and pulling her behind him.

He's determined for them to make it to their next destination so they can properly attend to themselves, and she's not one to argue. There's nothing stopping her viridian from gazing upon this hand stained in blood—she wonders if it's his or the shinobi who had attacked them.

How much blood had he spilled well before now?  
How much sweat had he given well before now?  
How many tears had he shed well before now?

She knows she had given them all, and she knows this man before her has given just as much. It's obvious in how fear gripped a hold of his heart so easily. She hopes he doesn't have to give any more of his blood, sweat, and even more so his tears. She hopes she's never the one that makes him shed tears again.

He's shed far to many of those.  
He's cried for far to many years.

He's like the snow—he's pure when you get down to his core.  
—and just like with the snow today he's been soiled blood, sweat, and tears.


	6. Scribbled in Gratitude

x.x.x.x

Title: Scribbled in Gratitude  
Prompt: Thank You (Rinne Matsuri Edition)

* * *

She's rushing as she's grabbing her red coat from her chair and hurrying from the hospital. She's stayed longer to care for a child's broken arm after they fell upon the ice that lingered deep within the snow.

There's the check of her pocket as she slides her first sleeve on and her praises that she hasn't forgotten the gift she's bought just for him. She's sure as she makes her way through the village giving her waves and happy holiday greets that he's bound to be over the festivities. She wants to believe he doesn't hate Rinne Matsuri—she chooses to believe he's just uncomfortable with it. She wants to believe that as a child he would wake up just excited as she does now—she chooses to believe that he holds fond memories deep within him of this time of year.

She's turning the corner and she's running far to fast. Those she passes step from her way they're scolding her within their eyes at such haste but they're not harsh with her. There's excitement and there's joy at what his face with paint for her when she hands him his gift.

Picking such a gift had taken great care. She cannot remember how many times she ventured out in search of what to present for him this year. He was not Naruto who was so simple to find the right gift, and he was not Kakashi who would accept just about everything. There's the giggle that falls from her at such a thought. He's such a simple man and yet he was by far more difficult than that of their other two teammates. She had pondered, and she had wondered. She had regretted and then she had been filled with self praise at what she had picked.

It's here in the now though that matters as she makes her way through the gate of his home deep within what used to be the Uchiha district. She stops at the door. Sucking in a deep inhale to calm her nerves she dares to press her knuckles to the door with a knock. She waits a moment expecting him to open the door. Moments pass and there's no answer. She shifts her weight from one leg to the next and then daringly after a few more moments pass she knocks once more. Her nerves are getting to her with each moment of wait. She's wondering if he hadn't heard her the first time—but she smart enough to know he probably felt her chakra running towards his home.

Another moment—she stands still as she hopes it will ease those nerves that dare make her heart flutter. Still his door doesn't answer and there's no stopping the corners of her mouth the dip down. She's lifting her hand and she keeps it raised—was there a point in knocking a third time? If he hadn't opened now why would he on the third? The retraction of her hand homes and there's the curl of her hands within the hem of her jacket. Another deep breath and the puff of white brought by her breathing fills the air. Fingers dig themselves within her pocket and she's setting it down upon his step.

She speaks just an octave louder than normal, "I hope you've had a wonderful holiday, Sasuke-kun. Have a goodnight."

She wanted to believe he doesn't hate Rinne Matsuri—she's questioning that belief. She wanted to believe that as a child he would wake up just excited as she does now—she's wondering if he remembers those times as a child. It's bittersweet, but she's happy nonetheless. She's given him what she's picked out for him and him alone. The rubbing of her hands comes as she blows within them hope to heat them within her walk home. She had meant every word she had said. She does hope his holiday has been wonderful. She does hope he has a goodnight.

He's not one for crowded places, and he's not one for mingling with the locals. That's something she had learned well before now. He was like this as a genin. Outside of team seven did he ever celebrate it after his family had been ripped from him? There's a snort at the idea of Orochimaru celebrating such a holiday. There's the hope that at some point down the line he'll learn to celebrate it with team seven once again.

Those bittersweet feelings she had felt at his door wash away as she comes within the festive downtown. She's questioning food, and she's buying it moments later. She'll eat it deep within her home—her family would be long since passed out by now. She'll visit them within the morning before she heads off to her evening shift to see how much of a hassle her father has been to her mother.

Her steps are even and she feels the sudden urge to not go home. It's the smallest of weights upon her heart, and it doesn't stop her eyes from daring to look behind her as she comes upon the almost clear streets. She's not sure what she was looking for and she's not sure what she thought she would find when she dared to look back from where she's come. There's a feeling similar to loneliness at having not found whatever it was she was looking for.

She wont allow this to dampen her mood further. The hum she lets out is low and meant to comfort her alone. It's just a simple holiday tune one that everyone knows. The swing of the bag of food comes as she walks to the beat. The glow of the lanterns are what light this dark night, and it's just another thing that helps to bring her mood up. Her fingers may be cold but she'll be home within the warmth of her home soon enough.

A few of her neighbors are being loud even at this hour but she cannot find it in her to blame them. This time of of year was meant for joy, love, and mutual support. This time of year was meant to raise ones spirits, and look forward to the good in those around them. Fingers curl upon the hand rail as she makes her way up the steps to the second floor of her apartment building. She's not missed a beat and it's as she comes upon her door her eyes take note of what sits before her door. Her heart sinks in seeing the box she had left for him at her door step, and it's as her feet slowly carry her forward that she feels her eyes sting with fresh tears ready to fall.

 _He hadn't liked it—he had rejected her gift_.

Kneeling upon the ground her fingers trail over the box lacking the small little bow that had once been wrapped around it. That bittersweet feeling has come crashing down upon her and it takes biting her lip to silence any cry that might dare to fall from her. She's grabbing it and taking it with her—there's always next year she tells herself, and there's always another chance to try and bring him some joy within the year after that.

The flick of the light switch that floods her viridian of her home. She's decorated her home within the festivities—it's not much as she's not home enough to enjoy them. Placing the bag upon the counter she keeps the box within her hand choosing to lean against the counter top. As she debates what to do with the small little item she had chosen solely for him—there's the urge to throw it in the garbage but she wont do that. She rubs her nose with the back of her hand and then she dares to open this box so rejected.

 _Her heart stills for a moment_ and _her viridian grow wide_.

She dared to believe he doesn't hate Rinne Matsuri—she wants to believe he's just uncomfortable with it. She dared to believe that as a child he would wake up just excited as she does now—she wants to believe that he holds fond memories deep within him of this time of year.

There's the tears that fall within the box that finally shed themselves. She had allowed her heart to sink within this holiday believing he hadn't liked her gift—thinking he had rejected it. She had allowed herself to feel such frustration when the lanterns lit her path home, and she had fallen into something close to loneliness.

 _He had liked her gift—he had accepted it happily_.

The small piece of paper locked within the box is enough to make these tears shed in joy far more than that of sadness. The gratitude he's scribbled across the small paper is the only gift she needed from him. She did not need him to go out of his way—she just need to know he had gotten some form of happiness in something now that he was back with them.

Gently taking the paper from the box she's given another still of her heart at the necklace that had hid underneath it. It's small with its silver chain, and diamond-shaped pendant of pale lavender. A smile wide and glowing is across her face. She dares to take a chance at glancing upon the back of this small paper that holds those two little words of gratitude in that penmanship that's definitely his.

 _Thank you.  
Have a wonderful holiday.  
Have a goodnight._


	7. Years, Months, Days, Hours, Minutes, Sec

x.x.x.x

Title: Years, Months, Days, Hours, Minutes, Seconds, and Milliseconds  
Prompt: Love you. Goodbye (Rinne Matsuri Edition)  
Note: The vast majority of days 1-6 were angsty as hell and so I bring day seven sprinkled in wholesomeness as repentance. lol ahhh wholesome sasusaku is lit, and five year old Sarada is even more lit.

* * *

He hasn't seen her in years—he's lost track of the _months_ , track of the _days_ , track of the _hours_ , track of the _minutes_ , track of the _seconds_ , track of the _milliseconds_.

Yet, here he is deep within their bedroom as she sleeps and their child locked within a room just doors down the hallway. It's the time for _joy, love, mutual support_ — _family_ , and he is not able to stand beside them with his mission so important. Had the snow not fell from the ground in it's large puffs of white, and the villages he moved within not displayed their colors showcasing the holiday he's sure he would have missed the many he already has.

The wood flooring doesn't dare to make a noise as he seeks to linger by her bedside. Those soft pale rose-colored stands seek to swim across the bed. Her hair has grown longer than when he had left her side—he's curious if she intends to let it grow out while he stays locked forever away. Shifting within her sleep she's so unaware that he lingers beside her desiring to reach out and touch her, hold her, whisper to her within the night.

Fingers dare to move forward and it's another shift and her rolling upon her side as her own seek out what was meant to be his place upon the bed. They search and the seek never finding him—he's sure they've sought him out throughout the many _years, months, days, hours, seconds, and milliseconds_ he's been away. Time was a constant and while he went through the dimensions, and sought out the signs that someone would come to harm the peace they had fought for beside—and _against_ —one another.

Knuckles are cautious as they move the strands that dare to slide against her cheek. He's forgotten the feel of them within his fingers and he's forgotten how they curl towards the ends. He's forgotten how soft they felt within his roughened finger tips, and he's forgotten how they slide so easily upon skin. Pushing her away had been his only choice—pushing their daughter away had been his only choice.

He would protect them far from home, and he would make sure his daughter he dares not to gaze upon would grow up within peace. This woman who had given him such a child had fought for so long, and so hard to get some semblance of peace—he would make sure they were both granted such things. He knows that as her fingers curl within his unused pillow that she truly just longed for him, but that is not what he can give her right now— _one day_ though deep within the _years, months,_ _days,_ _hours, minutes, seconds, and milliseconds_ he would be able to grant her that.

That vanilla scent of hers fills his nose as he dares to approach closure brushing his fingers within those strands so pale, and so rose-colored. There's that even breath from her that coaxes him closer. He needs to not allow her to swallow him in or he'll never be able to leave her bed side again. Wind dares to bring the snow within the room. He's kept it open for his leave—he told himself he was to look upon her and leave immediately. The holiday did not bring him reprieve from his mission. In the end, he knows he'll reach the end—deep within some _year, month, day, hour, second and millisecond_.

A hum, and a deep inhale fills her lungs as she stays locked within her dreams. It makes the smallest of smirks play upon the corners of his lips, and then grow deeper at the small shake that comes across her shoulders at the cold air he's brought with him. Roughened tips are adventurous—they dare to brush down her cheek, across that cold exposed shoulder, down the peaking arm, and upon the comforter meant to keep her warm with the cool that lingers outside. Slowly, and even more gently he pulls it higher upon her.

He knows he cannot bask within the _year, month,_ _day,_ _hour, minute, second, and millisecond_ just yet. He should have done as he had planned and left her side as fast as he had come. She's always coaxing, and always nurturing. She's always bewitching, and she's always silently calling. That growing smirk has become glowing. She made it okay to glow within the night, and throughout the day—it's not here, and it's not in the now, but he'll come upon that moment eventually.

Tucking her deeper within that comforter is all the more he'll allow himself to do. He knows that should he do more he will not leave—he'll stay and he'll regret not keeping them safe. They depend on him silently, reassuringly, and willingly. He cannot let those be in vain.

This momentary weakness is comforting—it's helped with his longing. He cannot help but feel himself stronger than when he had entered. The snow that continues to dare land upon this wooden floor with it's breeze so cold, and so chilled is but another calling for him to return to his mission. He knows it will be hard this second time—he had thought leaving his _wife_ the first time would be the hardest—it's proven him wrong— _oh, so, so, wrong_.

Lips part and he's moving towards the door—the moon that highlights the puffs of white seeks to illuminate him as he stands ready to leap. He cannot stop himself from turning to let his obsidian run upon her one last time—

 _I love you_ —

— _goodbye_.

It's a flutter of sunlight, and a flutter of pale rose-colored lashes. It's the press of her head deeper within the pillows, and the voice so small that dares to break within the morning. The dip of the bed comes and there's a smile glowing upon her features. This small little child is sliding underneath the covers. Fingers small and delicate—childlike in all of their wonder—brush against her arm and it's the crack of a viridian that lets the strands of obsidian flood her vision. She's excited but she's stubborn this small child of hers—she's absolutely her father there is no doubt within her mind.

Fingers shift across the pillow—her ring upon her finger feels cold this morning—wrapping this child up.

"Mama." she's letting out that familiar adorable whine.

"Yes, Sarada?" she responds with sleep laced within her voice

She's shifting around, and there's the smallest pout across that bottom lip she, so, dares to puff out. This child learned far to quickly. She was smart, she was talented, and she knew how to get her way. Pale rose-colored brows lift within a hum as heavy lids continue their sleep ridden flutter. She doesn't know where the _years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds, and milliseconds_ have gone.

Those times feel so short—and yet so painfully long.

"Wake up!" she's resorted to poking upon her arm.

"Ah, Mama's up—mama's up." she's chanting in between a yawn finally sliding the blanket from her form to sit up upon the bed.

It's a tickle fight, and the begs to stop with tears falling in laughter before she's scooping her within her arms. She's mastered being a mother, and she's mastered the shift of her hip that holds her child as they dare to gaze upon the half fogged window. It's white no matter where her viridian look, and that look of wonder upon those obsidian hiding behind glasses that make her heart skip a beat.

Her child loves Rinne Matsuri—she's oh, so, so, glad. Fingers pressing against the glass make her smile far to wide, "Ah, Sarada. Let's go unwrap all the gifts you've received this year, ne?"

That's all it takes to make her remove her gaze from the winter that rained upon the village. It's the only thing she needs to make her take them down the hall, and down the stairs. The packages wrapped in golds, silvers, and reds are what make her daughter wiggle within her grasp, "Patience, Sarada—Patience!"

She's not truly scolding, and her daughter knows it far to well as she's set upon the wooden floor. There's the gross of her arms as she's standing before the stack, and it only takes one word to make her pick which one she'll take first, "Ah, Papa's gift to you is the gold with red."

Fingers tiny, and small need no other comment to make her grab a hold of the named package. She's none to gentle in dropping upon her bottom to open it, but then there is a hesitance to her before she turns to cast those obsidian upon viridian.

"What's wrong, Sarada?" she's kneeling ready to stretch her fingers out to run within that obsidian hair.

"You're not wearing Papa's necklace." she's pouting as she's scowling—that is just another one of those looks she's gotten from her father.

The giggles that spill from her come, and it's all she needs to go and retrieve it. It's a look upon the mirror as she's making her way down the hall that makes her stop.

It's simple—but it's the first gift he gave her during Rinne Matsuri after they had become _husband_ , and _wife_ those _years, months, days, hours, minutes, seconds, and milliseconds_ back. There's a tenderness that comes within seeing it sitting around her neck—it's deep rich red, and bright white fan pendant a symbol of family.

She's stepping softly before choosing to sit behind this daughter who had been so patient. Obsidian look to see if she's grabbed what she's demanded. Fingers dance within her obsidian giving her the silent command to open her gift. She's ripping and she's tearing within the colorful paper and she's letting her excitement show.

It's their favorite time of year—and one day he'll be here celebrating it with them. Fingers pull the chain of silver out from the box completely silent as they gaze upon it's pendant. There's the biggest of smiles upon her face. In the end the gift she would pick out from him would be the one this daughter seemed to adore upon her own neck.

The waiting for her to become five had been so short—and yet so painfully long. She had waited it out till she thought it was the best time. Those fingers had loved to play with her own as an infant, and now at the age of five her daughter would be able to have her own.

"Wasn't Papa kind this year?" she's whispering as she grasps the chain of silver.

"Mama." she's quick with the whip of her head obsidian gazing so large and so wide—she's absolutely awestruck, "Can I wear it? Please?"

"Absolutely." she's humming out assisting with the clasp.

He hasn't seen their daughter in years—he's lost the _months_ , track of the _days_ , track of the _hours_ , track of the _minutes_ , track of the _seconds_ , track of the _milliseconds_.

He does this—and yet she understands. She's willing to wait silently, reassuringly, and willingly. She'll raise this child the best she can with a smile upon her face. In the end, she knows he'll reach the end of his mission—deeper within the _year_ _s_ _, month_ _s_ _, day_ _s_ _, hour_ _s_ _, second_ _s_ _and millisecond_ _s to come_.

 _I love you, Sasuke-kun_ —  
— _goodbye,_ _for now._

"Let's open Uncle Naruto's next, ne?" _  
_


	8. Twenty-Four Hours

x.x.x.x

Title: Twenty-four Hours  
Prompt: Heartbreak Hotel  
Note: I spent the whole damn day trying to figure out how I was gonna Christmas this up. . . **I came up with legit nothing**. If you haven't noticed yet I'm trying really hard to keep my stuff within the canon timeline ( _trying, my dudes_ ) and avoiding AU this month. I'm still counting this one as part of my participation of 31 Days of SasuSaku Christmas fightme. Sakura would of been the easy choice this prompt, imo. So I went with Sasuke instead.

Major Team Kakashi from Accounting feels, my dudes.  
Yes,it'sfuckingangstydon'tlookatmelikethat.

* * *

Words ring loud, and his feet shift faltering just a step—it's only been twenty-four hours.

It's only been twenty-four hours since he cast aside the feelings of his teammate— _no, he severed that bond_. It's only been twenty-four hours since he struck down his best friend— _no, he's severed that bond too_.

 _She_ was no longer his teammate, and _he_ was no longer his best friend.  
He had severed those bonds the moment he set the team photo down. He had severed those bonds the minute he had set her on the bench. He had severed those bonds the second he had left his best friend unconscious.

It's been twenty-four hours, and he's traveling to the Sound. It's been twenty-four hours, and he's following a new set of folks. It's been twenty-four hours, and his heart hurts.

There's a hope, and there's a prayer that the further his legs go the less he'll hesitate. There's a wish, and there's a devotion that the falter in his step will cease to exist. There's an aspiration, and there's an intercession that the increase in distance will lessen the regret. There's an expectation, and there's a supplication that this distance will make him forget—he needs to forget _her_ , and he needs to forget _him_.

The snickers, and those snide words these new set of folks speak only make his heart tweak. Every mention of the home he had cast aside only seeks to make him quake in comprehension there's no turning back, there's no going back, and there's not coming back. This sets new rules, this sets no boundaries, and this sets the path he's chosen to take.

 _Regret still lingers—_ he needs to understand that this is the end. _  
I. . .love you with all of my heart!_

 _Steps still hesitate—_ he needs to realize that this is the end _.  
Do you no longer consider me as your friend?_

He's been a foolish boy—he was a boy who dared to dream of a future with comrades drunken in the assurance of peace. He dared to dream of a future colored in pale rose, and bright blonde. He dared to reach out for a future that would let him hold _her_ hand, and let him shake _his_ hand. He dared to consider a world with _them_. His future was not where his dream was meant to be. It was in the past where it would always be.

 _She_ would be in the past, and so would _he_. _  
They'd be in a past so different from his dream_.

Eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-six hours had passed.  
He's older, and he's grown colder—he doesn't need _them_.

He doesn't need her _love_ , and he doesn't need his _friendship_. He doesn't need _her_ hand in his, and he doesn't need _him_ shaking his hand in _his_.

There's no more need for hopes, and prayers. There's no more need for wishes, and devotions. There's no more need for aspiration, and intercession. There's no more need for expectations, and supplications.

 _Regret still lingers—_ he needs to understand that this is the end.  
She loved him with all of her heart.

 _Steps still hesitate—_ he needs to realize that this is the end _.  
_ He still considers him a friend _._

Those snickers, and those snide words from these folk only make him colder. Every mention of the home he had cast aside only seeks to make him build more walls around his heart. There's no turning back, and there's no coming back from where he's gone—he's never going back. Those rules were set and they've become old. These rules have set permanent boundaries, and these rules are what he's chosen to follow.

It's been eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-six hours, and he's residing within the Sound. It's been eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-six hours, and he's still among those he had followed. It's been eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-six hours, and his heart still hurts.

 _She_ was no longer his teammate, and _he_ was no longer his best friend.  
He can remember how he tipped the team photo over so he wouldn't have to see their faces. He can remember how he set her on that bench, and held her hand. He can remember how he had left his best friend unconscious, and dared to stare down at him.

It's only been eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-six hours since he cast aside the feelings of his teammate— _no, he severed that bond_. It's only been eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-six hours since he struck down his best friend— _no, he's severed that bond too_.

Words ring loud, and his feet shift faltering just a step—it's only been eight thousand seven hundred and thirty-six hours.

He's done this over and over. He's looked at the moon and thought of _her_.  
He's kept going, and going. He's looked towards the sun, and thought of him.

He's walked with strength in his stride, and he's walked with frustration, and what he dares to call ambition. He's walked down the lonely street—he's walked down this road with a broken heart tapped back together. It's never crowded, and it's never filled with pale rose, and bright blonde.

 _She_ was meant to be in the past, and so was _he_. _  
They'd were meant to be in a past so different from his dream_.

Seventeen thousand four hundred and seventy-two hours had passed.

He's walking down that lonely street. He's walking down this road with a heart held together by concrete. It's crowded, and it's filled with pale rose— _there's no bright blonde beside her_.

She's yet to catch him. He's caught her.

Words ring loud, and his feet shift faltering just a step—it's only been seventeen thousand four hundred and seventy-two.

 _I. . .love you with all of my heart!  
Regret still linger_ _s—_ he just has let this end.

There's no stopping the follow of his obsidian eyes. She's older, and she's grown warmer. She's smiling, and that makes his heart quiver. She's still her, and he's no longer him. She had told him she would be lonely, and he feels bitter because she's not. She's still glowing, and she's still got that bounce to her step. She's still kindhearted, and she's not covered in tears.

It's bittersweet, and it's painful—he's selfish and he knows it.

He wants to watch, and he wants to linger. He wants to reach out, and he wants to holler. He wants to hold her hand in his, and he wants to consider a world with her. His hearts sinking, and he's desperate to swallow all that he feels down. There's no stopping the way his heart quakes, and there's not stopping the shift of his foot back.

She's flooding him with all the things he sought to sever— _and it would only be worse if his best friend dared to stand beside her_.

He's been a foolish boy—he was a boy who dared to dream of a future without comrades drunken in the assurance of peace. He dared to dream of a future no longer colored in pale rose, and bright blonde. He dared to reach out for a future that would not let him hold _her_ hand, and not let him shake _his_ hand. He dared to consider a world without _them_. His future was not where his dream was meant to be. It was in the past where it would always be.

 _They were in the past_.  
He had put them there.

There's a thunder of his heartbeat, and there's the force he has to exert to turn away from her down this road from him. They're far from home—far from her home. They're distances away from where he had left, and where he could never return. Yet here she is—right here she is.

Would she hold his hand? Would she ask for him to come home?

He dares to decorate his face in frustration. He dares to decorate his face in harm. He dares to scrunch his nose, and bare his teeth as they grind. He dares to long for home—and he dares to long for her. He's desperate to runaway before he surrenders.

It's back deep within the lair—deep within the Sound, deep within the halls, and deep within the doors. He's curling upon his bed and he's desperate to make that vivid night end. There's a hope and there's a prayer that if he falls asleep she won't be there. There's a wish, and a devotion that question if she still loves him. There's an aspiration, and an intercession that she still does. There's an expectation, and supplications that she'll wait for him—

—yet he's never going back, he's never coming back.

His impatience is growing, and growing, and his frustration is showing, and showing.  
He's done this over, and over. He's looking at the moon and _longed for her_.

He considers himself lucky—it would have been worse to see them both.  
He would have been flooded by both of them— _and it doesn't seem to lessen the hurt_. _  
She_ was still his—what had she truly been to him?

It's been seventeen thousand four hundred and ninety-six hours, and he's dared to dream of her. It's been seventeen thousand four hundred and ninety-six hours, and he's shaking after catching just a glimpse of her. It's been seventeen thousand four hundred and ninety-six hours, and his heart still hurts because he's longing for her.

She was still his—she had been more than a teammate. _  
It doesn't lessen the heartbreak_.

Words echo loud, and his breath shudders—it's only been seventeen thousand four hundred and ninety-six hours.  
— _and he's_ _stuck_ _thinking of her_.

Here he stands—it's been twenty-four hours since he caught sight of her.  
He know this has ended—but he can't break away. _  
He wants to surrender_.

It's bittersweet, and it's selfish—he knows it.


	9. Neutral Territory

x.x.x.x

Title: Neutral Territory  
Prompt: On Opposite Sides (Rinne Matsuri/ TheClosetPoet7's Revolution Edition)  
Note: 9000% based this one off theclosetpoet7's Revolution fanfiction. Don't be lame go read that shizz. It's on point, my dudes. . . this is the one-shot that literally sucked the T, and K out of this fic. No joke.

* * *

— _her heart belongs to him._

And maybe that's why she's going to him during Rinne Matsuri. Maybe that is why she's crossing lines into his territory. Maybe that's why she's placed the henge on giving her obsidian strands to match his own. Maybe that's why she's walking through the door of this hotel deep within Otogakure named Heaven— _just maybe they were neutral territory_.

He's all the things he always is as he's pressing her up against the door with fingers deep within her stands of obsidian. He's dipping that tongue within her mouth stealing her air, and he's none to gentle in how he presses his knee in between her legs.

He's grunting out a demand, and she's barely heard it—he wants the henge removed; he wants her as just her. He doesn't want obsidian locks that swim around them as he takes her. He wants pale rose, and viridian as he presses her harder into the door. There's an urgency with every touch and slide of his fingers upon her skin. Their breath mingles as they share this look between them. Lips are brushing but they're not pressing. Fingers are pulling harder at her strands no longer obsidian—they're the pale rose.

Half baked excuses were what she gave him last time they had seen each other. Half baked attempts at explaining why she had let her strands grow longer with each passing between them. She had claimed it was for herself, and it was so she could tame them within a hair tie.

He's lifted her against the door with those obsidian brows pinched he's determined to have her. The fire across her skin aches as he's moving her to the bed. Fingers press upon her chest forcing her back against the sheets of this hotel so decently named. Desperate to touch him is what she is. Desperate to run her fingers over his skin is what she is. She is so many things as she watches his set of free fingers remove his cloak and slide that zipper upon the high collared shirt down with force. She was the one who felt so desperate and yet all this urgency and all this determination across his features seek to make it clear she's not the only one.

Fingers wrap around the wrist that keeps her locked against the bed. Teeth grip upon the gloved hand pulling it from her fingers and a whip of her head has it falling beside her. There's not stopping the heightened breathing as her ungloved hand seeks to run up his arm. It's stilled his movements on removing his pants casting those obsidian back upon her skin. She's flushing as his fingers still pressed deep upon her chest dare to squeeze catching her voice within her throat.

— _finally she feels more free.  
He's never gonna let her go_—

It's a roll of his palm against the fabric of her red and the feeling of the zipper pressing against her heated skin before he's sliding between her legs and coming for that which keeps her hidden from him. There's an uncharacteristic slowness as he's sliding it down letting her milky skin come into view within the drag of the zipper. There's no missing the way his eyes linger and wander with it's pull. She dares to say locked within her hazy mind— _he's missed her_.

 _All these places they go—all this pain builds within—all this war has sought to end_.  
And now she's feeling stronger— _she's feeling so much stronger._

The shudder of a breath she's let out seems to excite him as he presses firmer than before against her skin as he touches wherever he can. That shirt that had kept him at bay had been easily dealt with—tossed aside with no care. It's those rough callouses upon his fingers coming to her black shorts as he slides them down her legs—he's like a child during Rinne Matsuri with parted lips, and the most intense gaze as they reveal what's underneath.

It had all started with that bar—and now it's led to here where he's running those hands upon her thighs spreading them further as if he's determined to look everywhere that he can. He's already taken her innocence, but that's not stopping him from seeking it out once more.

 _This is what they could have been—they could have been this without the secrecy and the lies—they could have been this without his war against his best friend_.

"Sasuke-kun, _please_." she's dusted in deepening pink as her fingers twist within the sheets.

That's all he needs to hear to make him sink his fingers deep within her. Half lidded viridian cannot stop themselves from taking him in as he continues that intense gaze upon her curls— _upon his fingers deep inside of her_. Every cry, and every arch of her back has him looming closer. He doesn't want to miss her face. He wants to see those viridian and he wants to see her desperate to muffle the sound of her voice between teeth. It's at her peak and the call of his name that she's become wide doe eyes and panting breaths. It's the glow of those eyes that has her shaking.

 _All these_ _heavenly_ _acts_ _—all this_ _ecstasy_ _builds within._  
— _her heart belongs to him_.

Ecstasy ridden within her mind she dares to wonder if this urgency he's held this whole time is because it's Rinne Matsuri—he knows he's called her away from his best friend's side during the holidays and snowy night. It's as if he knows she's dare to let her mind try to wander. Those firm hands upon her arms brings her forward and she's not sure what he has in mind—she doesn't care as long as he continues to make her feel like this.

The cry she lets out is but his name as he pushes himself hot and thick within her. Pulling her up and down by her hips so deeply pressed within his fingers has her following what he's doing, and rolling her hips to match the pace he's set. Viridian loose themselves within those scarlet—so red, and so glowing—as she moves upon his lap. Fingers pull upon his curled locks of obsidian yanking his head back as she dips her tongue between his panting lips. This look is enough to completely seal her to him. She wants more of these deep needing looks. She wants more of his fingers forever pressed against her skin. She wants more of this— _if only he'd come home, and stop this war_.

 _Time will fade—of what could have been—  
if only you'd come home with—dare she say, 'me'._

He's hard and he's fast within his thrusts as his hands continue to lift her with absolute desperation. He's earnest in every action, and persistent to have her quivering. She cannot stop the deep and raspy groan of his name as she forces him as deep as possible within her release. She's shuddering and tightening around him—she hates that she cannot find the strength to open her eyes to see what look he's adorn in as she cums for him.

Heavy, and on top of her his fingers trail within her fingers as he continues to seek his own release in her. Pressed against this mattress so loud and squeaky—it's only drowned out by his pants and her muffled noises as his arm lays above her head keeping him raised. Half lidded scarlet continue to search within her dazed, and exhausted viridian. They've only got tonight before he goes back to being the kage of Otogakure, and she goes back to standing beside his best friend—before they're enemies once more.

 _They're neutral territory in this hotel called Heaven_.

And maybe that's why she's below him covered in the glow of their fucking during Rinne Matsuri. Maybe that is why she's crossing lines into his territory to give her heart to him. Maybe that's why she's basking within his intense gaze set upon her. Maybe that's why she's pressing her lips to his letting his tongue make claim to her— _just maybe they were_ _dare she say 'neutral territory'_.

The press of his forehead against her own comes as he grits those teeth within his release. Oxygen caught within his throat and fingers twisting dangerously within the sheets above her head. It's hot and it's wet and it's him that's filling her, and riding it out with grunts, and mixed breaths.

Skin dewy with sweat, and locked in a match of eyes the smile tired, and deep sets within her lips. She dares to bring her fingers within his hair once again rubbing soothing circles. She can only muse in how she had been so lost within their actions that she had only removed one glove.

They continue such acts of affection—they're both being daring and they're both far to caring. He's going back to the red head who awaits him, and she's going back to the blonde that she had chosen when each choose their place. The depth of sleep comes and there's no care for the chill of snow that continues to rain upon this village of his.

 _He's never gonna let her go_ — _  
and she's feeling stronger—her heart belongs to him_.

They're quiet within their dressing within the morning that dares to peak from the cheap curtains only hours later. She's all hums and he's all firm pressed lips. She's the one turning to him and setting her henge back in place. It's his hands grabbing her hood and putting it in place, and then the pull he makes bringing her lips to his. They're enemies once she walks out this door—but he's staking his claim upon her silently.

He's turning to leave her without a word after he's released her, but she's not done yet grabbing a hold of his wrist, "Ah, Sasuke-kun wait—it's Rinne Matsuri, and I well. . ." her cheeks are hot as she's rambling, "This is for you."

He doesn't speak at first as she hands him the small square box plain in cream. Removing the top of it he sees what lurks with curiosity hiding within those obsidian. He swallows. She's stepping back clearing her throat, "You don't have to keep it if you don't want it." she's letting out the cheapest of laughs, "Really it wasn't a big deal or anything—"

It's his hand around her arm and him pulling her closer as he presses his forehead to hers mixing obsidian and those strands he had demanded be pale rose the night before. He's not speaking, and she's losing herself within his gaze so intense. Now he's got her swallowing, and that's when his head is turning and coming down to press his lips once more upon her own.

— _just maybe they were neutral territory_. _  
And footsteps fade what could have been_.


	10. More Than Family

x.x.x.x

Title: More Than Family  
Prompt: Photograph (Rinne Matsuri Edition)  
Note: TEAM SEVEN AND GENIN!SASUSAKU FLUFF IS BEST FLUFF. I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS CUTENESS SO HELP ME GOD. #chidoritotheheart  
Ten days done only 21 to go, my dudes.

* * *

There's no missing that flow of her step as she's running to the meeting spot for team seven on the bridge. Rinne Matsuri is happening and there's nothing she wants than to celebrate it with her team. She's excited and she's glowing. The snow is perfect with it's light fluff and rain upon the earth. It's not harsh and it's not sent to cause them panic.

She's slowing down within her steps and there's no missing the deep blue scarf around her crushes neck—it didn't seem to matter what he put on he was always perfect, and always in place. He's always got that lackadaisical expression in place, and the long sleeved deep purple underneath his normal high collared blue is just an added touch. She hopes the kimono she's dragged from her closet will impress him— _ah, it only seeks to make her giggle_.

"Good evening, Sasuke-kun!" she's all bright smiles slowing down to a walk as she seeks to set her hair in place.

The drag of his hand comes from it's place across his chest giving into his usual gestures, and it only seeks to make her heart flutter. There's no getting lost within this though at the call of the blonde coming from behind, and a compliment follows right after.

"It looks cute on you Sakura-chan!" he's all grins with his hands behind his head.

"Ah, thank you!" she's twirling around as she looks at the handy work of her, and her mother—it's her favorite one, in fact, deep in red, and floral patterns throughout it.

She can only continue within her playful banter with the blonde, and it's surprisingly not to late before their squad leaders made his appearance. He's late as always but it's not as long as normal and so she's willing to let it be. The lanterns that light their way as she runs her fingers within the white fur that hangs from her shoulders seeking to keep her warm. The food from the stalls makes them push through the crowds, and the games hold the best amusement—especially with their blonde always losing.

There's the cheer for their obsidian teammate as he tries his hand at it when provoked and baited by the blonde. There's no stopping her fits from pumping in the air and then the grin across her face. This was what it meant to be a team she's sure. She's sliding the camera from her bag and snapping away.

 _To be a team meant to be more than family_.

She's holding these males close to heart, and it's hard to keep the giggles from her face as she sets about snapping everything they do. Running into others is expected, and she's the first to push them all together. It's with the push of her blonde that she's given the chance to sit in one as well—she's just in the middle of this blonde, and obsidian. It's a grasp of their hands and she's pulling them along. It won't be long until the fireworks light up the sky, and she's filled to the brim with all the new memories they're creating.

Another turn within the busy lit up streets and they're acquiring more of their rookie nine. There's compliments, and some rivalry but it's okay because they're having fun and that's what meant most during Rinne Matsuri. She's completely oblivious with her fingers still upon that purple sleeve of his—he's yet to object. She's turning to him and it's with a dip of her head as she comes closer not respecting his space that he's taking a step back and turning his head towards her.

"It's almost time, Sasuke-kun!" she's all soft laughs as his scowl deepens, and the only response he provides a clearing of his throat.

"Look at you! You look like a turtle with you head so deep within your shirt!" the blonde's teasing.

Wide eyes, and a pinch of brows follows, "Shut up, dobe!" he's got the prettiest of blushes across his face within his embarrassment.

"No fighting!" she's scolding holding her hand up to both, "It's Rinne Matsuri!"

"Aw, Sakura-chan!" he's puffing his cheek out, "He looked like a turtle, come on."

She's shifting viridian and she's looking at the obsidian haired male which his fingers pulling his collar higher as if it would hide his embarrassment. It's a blink, and then another, and then she's falling into laughter making him go wide eyed again, "Naruto!" he's hissing at being so teased.

She can't stop herself as she grabs a hold of his arm to snap a photo, "What are you doing?" he's annoyed, and he's frustrated, but it's not stopping the click of that button, and giving it a look upon the back she's fallen into another round of giggles, "Delete it!"

"Alright, alright. That's enough. We'll miss the fireworks." as expected from their squad leader he's the one to break up the horse play.

She's distracted once again by the call of fireworks letting the camera hand from upon her wrist. It's another grip of their arms, "Sakura, let go I'm coming." Sasuke's mumbling.

There's no care though, and there's no stopping for the smell of food that continues to linger as they continue to the hills of grass that lead to the water that flows through out their village. Giddy and finding a spot among the others they stand and they wait. There's that idle chatter as they act as they should—they are twelve after all.

It happens all at once silencing them all and then the drawl of their voices in wonder as explosions lights, and multiple colors fill the darkened sky. Hands press together, and then she's remembering her camera it's another click of buttons as she seeks to get more photos. She wants to line them up, and have them around her room— _another display to remind her of times with this team so much more than family_.

None hold greater importance than that of the day they became team seven, but it's the click of a button capturing her crush's gaze upon the sky light with color that has her bringing the camera down and appreciate him further. She's not sure what makes her other hand find its way within his purple sleeves and that's what brings him staring at her.

He's got an eyebrow raised, and she's giving another blossom of a smile. These were the things she looked forward too. Her fingers tighten their hold, and then it's the loud mouthed blonde once best friend cutting in between. This has her scowling and calling her a pig, and there's no miss of her famous nickname falling just the same.

It's fine, and it's all welcomed though because this is Rinne Matsuri, and they have so much more to go.

There's the shift of her eyes and she thinks she's caught another prettiest of blushes across those cheeks adorned on him. Biting upon her lip she wonders if this helps him deal with the loss of his family—they could never replace them and they would never be them, but they could be what fills that time he spends alone at home.

The fireworks are spectacular in all of their flashes and colors that dare to linger before disappearing. There's the cheer and the call of all who look, and she dares to catch a glimpse of the shinobi quite behind them. He drags his eyes from his text and there's no missing the smile tucked behind that high collared mask. It's enough for her that they've all found enjoyment in this holiday so special. They'll be back to the grind soon enough, and every memory she makes is one she knows she'll look back upon as she gets older.

The finale comes and it's bright and more explosive than the rest it flashes. It's the longest of the fireworks, and it's a fitting end far more than she could have ever asked. She feels her heart's beat lose it's way from her hears completely overcome with the display.

The clap of their hands come and the whistles, and cheers from all around her have her giggling, and celebrating along. Their feet have them walking back down with which they came it's almost the end of the night, and it has her flipping through photos wishing to grasp this memory before it's gone. There's the flick and the head of the blonde coming over her shoulder. He's laughing and remarking as they go, and it's the stop on that photo of her crush deep within his collar refusing to look at her that's got her letting out a squeal.

This is the one she'll hold the closet. Never had she captured such a look until this moment, and then there he is pressing against her side to see what has her so excited.

"I said delete that!"

"No! It's my favorite, Sasuke-kun!" she's pouting so childish with puffed cheeks as she dares to void his personal space.

He's opening his mouth, and then he's closing it again. It's stuffing those hands in his pockets and desperate to get away from her, "Whatever."

She's following after with that flow in her step—they're a team— _and definitely more than that_.


	11. Finding His Way

x.x.x.x

Title: Finding His Way  
Prompt: Shelter from the Rain (Winter/Hail Edition)  
Note: I was having a rough day so I wrote this fluff thing here.

* * *

It comes down from seemingly out of nowhere and there's no other option than to rush to the nearest building for shelter. The hail pours with no remorse sending shivers underneath her coat and down to her skin. The chilled air seeks to make her breath but a puff in the air.

"Sakura?"

She's registering her name called and she'd know that voice anywhere—it's always deep within it's drawl and it's always smooth. Viridian look behind her catching him within the door of the tea shop she's sought to hide against the raining hail, "Ah, Sasuke-kun?"

"I thought that was you." there's a twitch of his mouth before he lets his obsidian flicker toward the seemingly never ending hail, "You coming?"

"Ah! Yes!" she's following after and trailing behind curious to who he's spending time with at the tea shop.

There's the silliest feeling upon her in seeing him sitting by himself within the corner with his tea still hot with steam coming from the cup. Why she had even considered he would be with another is beyond her—he liked his time to himself, and she just couldn't see the blonde joining him at the tea shop. She's taking her seat across and placing her bag upon the floor. Never would she had guessed she'd run into him by accident in seeking shelter from the weather. The drag of his cup to his lips has her eyeing him with these all to normal movements. He seems relaxed—she's thankful for that.

He hasn't been home long, and he won't be staying long. There's hope he's feeling accomplished in his journey, and what he's done. She's heard the rumors from those in passing, and there's no missing the joy that washes from her being in knowing that he was truly seeing the world with clearer eyes. They fall into pace with one another. The waitress takes her order, and they're falling into this pace they seemed so easily taken with. It's entirely casual—she's musing over how far they've come since the war. It's only been two years, and yet they had fallen in sync just as she had hoped they would.

He's describing the terrain and describing the places he's seen—she wonders what he felt as he traveled. She wonders if he's accepting atonement as he should. Fingers curl around her cup, and then she's blowing softly upon it. The hail has stopped showering upon the roof but in it's place snow had taken shape. She lets her curiosity shine through in the hope for a white Rinne Matsuri.

"Ah." he's joining her with gazing out the window.

There's no denying what she's been told. She knows he won't be here for the festivities. There had been acceptance so easily acquired in hearing it straight from the blonde. She knows this is what he needs. He needs this journey, and he needs to find himself. He needs to go confidently forward, and he needs to see this world and how it looks no longer drenched in darkness.

It may not be today, and it may not be tomorrow, but one day he'll come home, and he'll stay with them. He'll have gained the understanding he needed. No one blamed him now—he just needed to forgive himself. There's the smallest smile at that notion.

She wants him to gain that forgiveness, and she can only hope that when he does he'll bask within the happiness he deserves. They'll be here waiting, and they'll be here to hold his hand through it all. Team seven would always welcome him—it's just what they do.

"When do you leave?" she's whispering out with the smallest of smiles taking a sip of her white tea.

"In a few days… there's something I have to do before I go." he's yet to remove his eyes from the snow that seems to wish to keep them here in the tea house.

"Oh? Make sure to tell me when you're preparing to leave. I'll see you off." she's curious but never pressing knowing he'd give the details he'd want when he wants.

The silence that comes from him makes her wonder if he's heard her, but there's the shift of those obsidian, and the distinct feeling that he's holding himself back from answering—he's definitely heard her. This was him though, and she had accepted this too so long ago.

There's no need to rush though—he'll speak when he's ready. It's that drag of the tea to her lips. She knows he's watching her and in an effort to easy this sudden silence she's letting out a hum, "Ah I bought some stuff for the children's clinic."

She's catching each nod of his head, and there's no missing an almost expectant look upon his face. He's listening but there's no doubt those gears are turning. He's debating something internally while she attempts to keep things light between them. There's the spread of a grin across his lips as she tells him about a child who's just as loud as their blonde teammate. Cupping her face she's daring a glance at the frosted world that sits just beyond the window, "He's hyper I tell you, but it's kinda cute you know?"

"Sakura."

His voice has her giving back her viridian upon him—it never took much. She loved this boy now a man with all of her heart. It never took much to make her give him her attention. There's the most innocent of curiosity if he's got something to remark about this child being so much like their teammate, but it's the next words that drop that have her parting her lips.

 _About me leaving—I…_

She wonders if she's given him the wrong impression with how he's started his sentence. There's immediate regret in whatever she's done—she thinks this is the start of him trying to explain himself to her. Immediately her hands are coming up waving in front of her, "Oh, no, no. Sasuke-kun, I know. I understand you have much more you want to do—"

There's no missing the firm press of his lips, and the way that jaw tightens as he responds with a shake of his head. Fingers set upon the table as he takes a notable deep breath. She wonders if she's frustrated him with her response, and there's more regret that lingers within her.

"I don't want you to see me off."

Her stomach plummets at his words regretting whatever she's done to upset this balance they've always shared since his return. The twitch of her fingers cannot be stopped, and she's desperate to remove the flash of her she's sure decorates her face. Swallowing thickly spreads the smile across her face—it's cheap in quality there's no doubt, but the last thing she wishes to do is cause another misunderstanding.

The silence that lingers between them now is thick—it seeks to make her uncomfortable within his presence. Viridian come upon the table they linger upon his fingers still upon the table and then move to find comfort in staring within her tea no longer hot, but warm with time.

"Sa—"

"Ah, Sasuke-kun, I should get going. I have some paperwork to go ov—" he's cut her off with the flex of those fingers, and the drawl of his voice effectively silencing her before she can even continue to attempt to raise from her seat.

"I want you to go with me." there's no missing the frustration lingering within his words. She's not sure how wide her viridian have become—she's too busy questioning if he can hear how her heart drums against her chest, "I was trying to figure out how to ask you—if I could ask you." he's removed his eyes from her seeing that window chilled with snow finally clinging upon it.

"S-Sasuke-kun." she's dropping his name before her minds figure out if she's heard him correctly—she had asked to travel with him when he had started this journey, but never would she have foreseen him coming to ask her such a thing.

 _He had said his sins had nothing to do with her—_

She's slowly taking her place once again unwrapping her fingers from the bag, "You want me to go with you?"

He's flickering his eyes back to her and then dropping them down to the table with a dip of his head, "… You don't have to—"

She's speaking far to quickly over top of him, "I'd love too." her fingers trail across the table on top of his own with a squeeze.

There's hope that he hasn't taken her question the wrong way, and with each time he dares to drag his eyes to hers she thinks he hasn't. She can't help but appreciate this look decorating his face—he may be a man sitting across from her right this minute but there's no denying that look so much from their childhood. He's absolutely boyish—it's far too cute for a boy who had once been set on breaking the bonds he held within team seven.

"I'll be sure to tell Naru—"

"I've told him." he's biting his lip—they seem to be in a contest of who can cut the other off more, and that's what has her retracting her hand to come over her mouth that dares to let out soft giggles fall.

He's not sure what he's said that's so funny. It's obvious within his features as he stuffs his hands within his pockets leaning back within the chair. He seems to be trying to gauge her but she can't help but think it should be obvious.

He's everything he should be and all the things he ever was. She can see he's easing into his own forgiveness towards himself. There's no doubt within her mind that he had gone to their blonde friend for direction on how to ask—he'd never admit it—and seeking out an almost unspoken request to do so.

"I'll get my things situated in the day to come." the reassuring look she gives him is to let him know she has no intention of keeping him waiting.

There's a nod of his head and then finally the settle of obsidian to her viridian. They're kept within this tea house so in sync with one another. She can only hope that she can continue to watch him slowly but surely find happiness in the days to come and the future ahead.

It's that shared look between them— _yeah, she's certain he'll continue to find his way_.


	12. A Precious One

x.x.x.x

Title: A Precious One  
Prompt: Lights Out, Words Gone (Subtle Rinne Matsuri Edition)  
Note: Yis.

* * *

The glow of the tree from outside the window is all he needs to know she's tucked away within the door before him. The thickness of the cool air, and the lanterns that lit his path to her but a fading memory with his hand wrapped around the cold door knob. It's a press and then it's a step within the darkness only lit by the glow of the tree that dares to paint his shadow across the walls. Inhalation, and that sweet lingering sensation. This was home—it's where she lays, and her scent plays. Lids flutter down and he's embracing all that comes from being within her space.

She's _a precious one_ of pale rose-colored locks, and striking viridian eyes. Lost in time he's holding on in the chance to see her face before she wakes. Foot steps soft as he makes his way to her—she's not in the bedroom she's within the living room curled upon the couch with a scroll rolled across the floor having slipped from her fingers. There's the trail of obsidian upon her and onto the mess of scrolls that linger on the table. She had fallen asleep while researching. He had expected such a thing when it came to her of all people.

Kneeling he's hesitant to wrap his fingers upon the scroll as a shift from her comes. She's turning, and then she's raising so slow within her sleep as she props herself up upon her elbows. The yawn she releases shows her lack of attention, and the click of her tongue follows in it's place as she seeks to bring taste within her mouth once more. He's waited—he's been patient. He's refrained from coming back on more than one occasion. The holiday had been what had called him.

Turning and curling herself back into place she's still yet to take note of him—the fuzziness of sleep still keeps her snug. She's cuddled her head against the pillow and then she's shooting up and he's disregarded the scroll instead captured by her. Those lips are parting and she's getting ready to let words fall from them. She's _a precious one_ , and he hopes she'll close her eyes. Seeing her face filled with grace lights the darkness all around him. Her embrace makes him at her mercy.

She's yet to speaking within the dark—the lights are out—just the glow of the festive tree resides. That former life of his is but a memory. Those times when he had pushed her aside, and when he had sought out something far cruel. Everything is amplified as she dares a whisper.

 _He'll embrace her, and he'll take her all the way through_ —

Pressing her deeper upon the couch he's at a loss at how to pull back. They are both in haste to run fingers across skin hidden deep within cloth. He cannot help but wonder if this had been what had scared him away from her those years deep within his youth. He begins to press fingers under that darling green sweater that seeks to keep him from her. She's reactive, and she's responsive to ever skim of his fingers. Pale rose-colored strands are so much longer than they had been when he had last seen her. Viridian are still striking as they watch him so intently. Lips press against her knuckle as she seeks to keep herself from spilling every whimper. There's the momentary longing of his left hand—and then the capture of her sound within his mouth.

Every lewd movement, and every lewd breath that fills the air only seeks to make him press things further. It hasn't taken him much to get her to this state—just a push of that darling green sweater and the yank of those shorts. Milky skin is what captures his attention so vividly. He doesn't have to be afraid of this new life he's built. She's taken him to this new life so carefully.

It's a nip here upon her neck, and then the grind of his hips. There's a shallow breath as his fingers push up the bra so white, and a suck in of air as the make their way south. It's hot and it's heated. He's not slow—he's doing it all as fast as she's needing it. There's no denying her when he's got her panting and his fingers dare to play across her thighs. He might only have one hand within this new life—but she's never had to long for the one that's missing.

He's embracing her, and he's taking her with fingers deep inside her. She's all arched back, and fingers deep within her pale rose-colored locks. Viridian shut tight from the world it's a roll of those hips in time with each curl of his fingers. She's divine, and her face is filled with grace even in an act so lewd—she's mouthing words with sound unable to fall. Those words are dirty, and seek to say his name but he's unwilling to return air to her lungs as he fills her with another finger. This was home—it's where she lays spread before him, and her scent clings to his skin. Lids flutter down and he's embracing all that comes from being within her space. She had promised so much as children—she had kept her word as a woman.

The sound locked within her throat isn't given release with his mouth upon her own. She's grinding his fingers deeper as she's hit her desired limit. She's exotic, and she's a whole new level of tonic. She had given him the key long before he had walked from her side to seek atonement for the harm he had caused so many. He'll take her key—he'll take it willingly. He's sure this new life of theirs has just begun now that he's home, and he's here to stay.

There's an ache to his skin and an ache to his mind as he seeks to feel her so much more. He'll take her thoroughly, and he'll take her farther. It's only been six month's since he went back out and he had craved her. The lights are out in this house only filled with the glow of the tree she's put up—they don't need words to do what they're doing. It's all motion, and it's fumbling fingers as she seeks to assist him. The pull of cloth and he's pressing her back. She's about to let a frustrated noise fall but he's not letting her with the dip of his tongue and the press between her legs.

Viridian seek to hold his—but she's _a precious one_ and he wants her to close those eyes. Everything amplifies when she holds him so dear. It's her embrace that's got him at her mercy. Those fingers twisted within his hair, and sweat having already dewed her skin. Rolling and his hips has her squirming, and thrusting deeper has her arching. He's locked that sound back within her throat—she can't even begin to utter his name.

 _Nevermore, would he be gone from her._

Breathing mixes, and mingles. Hot kisses and trails of those soft fingers sliding underneath his clothes continue. She wants more dewed skin, and physical contact with him only brought with these lewd actions. There warmth around him has him ready to let go—he's so close and it's home. She is the home that he sought, and she is the home he has found. She is his life—she is all that matters in his flow of time.

Her breathing has caught within her throat as he hits right where she wants him. It's enough to make him thrust harder, and pound quicker. Filled with so much grace he feels as though he needs to taint her. She's elegant and glowing even as he takes her. Skin set up in flames has him panting unable to control his features, and unable to control his longing. Viridian finally flutter shut and away from the world once more, and it's as his hand yanks her by her hip roughly down upon him that she's found the power to let her moan out loud and throaty. He's holding out and he's holding on to every bit that he can as she quivers and shakes around him head tossing and those longer pale rose-colors locks daring to stick upon her.

She's _a precious one_ of pale rose-colored locks, and striking viridian eyes. Lost in time he's holding on as he chances to catch a glimpse of her as he fills her. Her whimpers and the bite of her bottom lip is all it takes—it's got her twisting those tiny hands within that darling green sweater. Heavy half lidded obsidian don't dare to fall shut as he drinks in ever move, and shudder she makes.

 _It's the end of his time away._ _Nevermore, would he be gone from her—_ _he'll embrace her, and he'll take her so willingly._

Fingers dance across her skin seeking to sooth her as they find a hold of the control they need to make this moment last longer. It doesn't take words—and they never should. It's an understanding, and a look of eyes, and a touch of skin necessary and showing from deep within.

She had given him the key long before now, and he's using it so willingly as he seeks her out through this physical, and undeniably emotional action. She's opening her mouth as if to speak, but no words every truly did float between them. Inhalation, and the smell of what they've just done fills his nose—it's enough to make him quiver still inside of her.

 _She is a precious one—she is home_.


End file.
